


Thanksgiving Morning (II)

by BradyGirl_12



Series: Holiday Morning [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Breakfast, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Food, Holidays, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Slice of Life, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: Thanksgiving morning at the Manor with the Wayne-Kent family.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Superman/Batman
Series: Holiday Morning [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018623
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Thanksgiving Morning (II)

**Author's Note:**

> Original DW/LJ Date Of Completion: November 5, 2020  
> Original DW/LJ Date Of Posting: November 22, 2020  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.  
> Original DW/LJ Word Count: 885  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.  
> The entire series can be found [here.](https://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/13235.html)

_When we gather_  
_Nothing matters_  
_Except good cheer_  
_Held so dear._

_Giving thanks,_  
_Is what we need,_  
_Giving thanks,_  
_Plants the seed._

  


**Elsinore Simmons**  
**_“Poems For Holidays”_**  
**1872 C.E.**

  
Clark slowly awoke, keeping his eyes closed. He was wrapped up with Bruce in the master bedroom of Wayne Manor. The drapes and sheets were black silk, terribly decadent and sinfully suggestive, not quite the setting that usually came to mind for Thanksgiving. Still, he had Bruce, and wasn’t that thanks enough? Especially when you counted his parents sleeping in a guest room, Dick in his own room, and a happy Alfred preparing breakfast even as the turkey cooked nice and slow in the oven.

He felt relaxed as the warmth of his lover’s body soothed him. The sound of Bruce’s breathing was music to his ears. He tightened his grip slightly, imparting security to his husband.

It was going to be a traditional Thanksgiving menu: turkey, bread stuffing, hamburger stuffing, yams, mashed potatoes, green beans, garden salad, cranberry sauce and three kinds of pie: pumpkin, apple and mince. His mother was helping Alfred with the dinner, creating her hamburger stuffing, and had brought the pies. Alfred was making homemade cranberry sauce and bread stuffing, and they were combining their skills on the rest.

The smell of cooking turkey said ‘Thanksgiving’ to Clark. It was a happy reference, and despite Bruce teasing him about his ‘endless appetite’, he enjoyed everything about the holiday: food, family and football. He laughed silently at the last item. Well, he liked the sport. So what?

Bruce mumbled, “Do I smell turkey?”

“You do.”

“Hmm. Your mother isn’t going to let Alfred have full sway in the kitchen, is she?”

“Oh, no.” Clark was amused. “But Alfred seems to be fine with it.”

“He recognizes an equal.”

Clark smiled. “I’m going to bet Mom suggests onion rings with the green beans.” 

“Then Alfred will insist upon apple chutney.”

“Hmm, sounds interesting.”

“There will also be a Romani dish from Dick’s mother’s recipe file.”

“Again, interesting.”

Bruce snuggled closer. Okay, he claimed he didn’t snuggle, but Clark knew better. He nuzzled Bruce’s hair, Bruce sliding his arm around Clark’s waist.

“We’ll have a great feast. Better than _Belly Burger!”_ Clark said.

“Oh, it’ll be a tight race,” drawled Bruce.

Clark laughed. Bruce’s hand stroked his lover’s hip, and Clark rolled over on top of him.

& & & & & &

Clark came downstairs, showered and dressed, a satisfied little smile on his face. He greeted Alfred cheerfully with, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Master Clark.”

“That turkey smells great.”

“Thank you.” The butler poured batter into a set of waffle irons. “A light breakfast, since we will be partaking of a great feast today.”

“Oh, yes.”

Alfred smiled at the eagerness in Clark’s voice. “Your mother suggested we serve onion rings with the green beans.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Onion rings?”

“An old ‘50s recipe. Remember we served it last year at the farm when we had Thanksgiving? Very homey, though some would say not very Midwestern, and yet others would say, very Midwestern.”

“Somehow, that makes sense, and now I do remember.”

Clark grinned. “You and Ma will have a lot of helpers.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” Alfred pressed the waffle irons.

“Even Bruce?”

“Even Master Bruce.”

“Better give him something simple.”

“Oh, yes.”

Clark grin widened at the thought of his lover’s lack of culinary skills. He picked up an apple from a bowl on the counter and took a large bite.

“This is one of your favorite days, isn’t it Master Clark?” Alfred opened the oven door to check on the turkey.

“Mmm, yes.” The aroma of roasting turkey made Clark’s mouth water.

“Food is an essential.” Alfred poked at the turkey with a fork and closed the door in satisfaction.

“Bruce thinks food is only fuel for the body. He doesn’t appreciate the flavor or texture or anything.”

“Oh, I think I manage to entice his palate.”

Clark’s eyes sparkled. “No doubt.”

Alfred poured orange juice in the glasses he had set on the table. “Master Bruce must go through stages. He trained as a young man to become Batman and learned to survive on as little as possible. He returned home and kept to his regimen, only not quite so strictly.” Alfred put the orange juice pitcher back in the refrigerator.

Clark figured Alfred had something to do with ‘not quite so strictly’. “But he still kept to sparse eating.”

“Yes, but when Master Dick came to us, his boyish love of food loosened up his mentor’s strictures.”

“Not surprising.”

“No, considering the lad’s enthusiasm for life.” Alfred took out a bowl of strawberries from the refrigerator and placed it on the table. “And now there’s you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, a man who loves food, who needs to fuel a super-metabolism, who understands how to enjoy life.”

Clark swallowed hard. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Clark could hear Dick sliding down the staircase banister and his parents walking down far more sedately. Bruce would come down last, and not right away. He was not a morning person, but would do his best to join everyone on Thanksgiving morning.

_I’ve got a lot to be thankful for._

Alfred took the waffles out of the irons while Clark got ready to greet his family on this festive morning.


End file.
